


Sleeping Beauty

by shadowolfhunter



Series: Twisted Fairy Tales Series [1]
Category: Justified
Genre: Fairy Tales, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a beautiful woman in his bed, and a dead man in his bath, and Raylan's witness is missing. Raylan doesn't care, he's fast asleep. Add in a hexed bottle of Bourbon, and things get complicated, Tim can't believe he's hearing this... Raylan can only be wakened by true love's kiss.</p><p>Raylan's bewitched, Tim's bothered and Art is simply bewildered, and Nelson gets the girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bewitched

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonshine_Givens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonshine_Givens/gifts).



“Raylan…” Tim knelt next to his friend’s seemingly unconscious body, “Ray… c’mon.” The sniper reached out and gently patted the cowboy’s cheek. “Do not do this to me. Ray…”

Raylan muttered something and turned his head, his cheek resting against Tim’s hand. _Shit_. Tim checked around the room. Bottle of Maker’s Mark up on the table, glass next to Raylan. The bottle was nearly full, a rough guestimate of the contents said that Raylan had had maybe two fingers’ worth in the glass. 

Tim reached into his back pocket, pulled out a latex glove and very carefully picked up the glass. Took a very cautious sniff. It smelled of bourbon. No possibility that a single glass would lay Raylan out like this, but something in the bourbon?

Raylan was, after all, a Kentucky boy… Tim was fairly certain that bourbon actually ran through his veins. It had to be something in the bourbon. He wasn’t unconscious, no signs of any lumps or bumps, he was simply asleep.

It made absolutely no sense to Tim, and what was worse, he had been trying to wake Raylan for nearly ten minutes.

Footsteps returning behind him caused Tim to turn his head.

“Nelson. Where’s the bus?”

Nelson Dunlop stared down at his sometime partner, “Bus is on it’s way, the rest of it…” he trailed off for a second. Tim frowned impatiently, and Nelson put his hands up in that universal gesture of _don’t shoot the messenger_. “You ain’t gonna like it. There’s a dead man in the bath, and a beautiful woman in the bed, asleep… and our witness is nowhere in sight.” He finished on a depressed-sounding sigh.

Tim closed his eyes, well Raylan was really in the shit now and no mistake. Knowing Raylan the way Tim did, the younger man knew this was not Raylan’s fault, but likely a combination of the chaos that Raylan’s presence in Harlan always set off, backed up with Raylan’s own stubborn inability to stay out of trouble.

Raylan Givens simply didn’t ever back down from a fight.

Tim couldn’t deny his partner’s courage, or his quick draw skills, or even his intuition. He just wished that occasionally Raylan would listen to his instinct of self-preservation that was probably screaming at him, and actually take the less messy, complicated and chaotic solution.

“Dammit, Ray… what the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in now?” Tim sighed irritably. Raylan turned his head a little, pressing his cheek into Tim’s palm. Tim closed his eyes and sighed again. Raylan Givens was a pain in the ass, but he was Tim’s best pain in the ass friend, like Rachel, and Tim would do anything for his friends.

Nelson reappeared to announce that the ambulance had arrived, together with the Chief, and Tim took a moment to pull himself together. Whatever was happening here, Raylan needed Tim’s A game.

But first they needed to wake Raylan up.


	2. Of Mad Doctors and Gullible Co-workers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim takes charge!

“What do you mean, there’s nothing medically wrong with him but you can’t rouse him?” Tim scowled and folded his arms across his chest. 

“Deputy Givens is non-responsive at this time.” Tim took an instant dislike to the man’s pompous bearing and tone.

He liked still less the gleeful light in the man’s eyes as the doctor continued, “there are a number of procedures we can try. I’ll get started in the morning.”

 _Oh no, you won’t_. Tim was not about to let Dr Frankenstein play with his sleeping friend. “Raylan’s alive and in one piece, sorta, I want him to stay that way. I want a second opinion.” Tim tightened his jaw and threw his fiercest lawman’s scowl at Dr Frankenstein. “NOW.” He growled for added emphasis.

A brief vision of hideous experiments and bubbling chemistry set ups flashed through Tim’s mind, as the creepy doctor experimented on Raylan’s helpless body. Not in this life. It had come as a major surprise when the paramedics fished Raylan’s wallet out of his jeans, pulled out his medical advice card and handed it to Tim.

Apparently Timothy Gutterson was Raylan Givens’ medical proxy.

Tim took his responsibilities very seriously.

“On second thoughts, I’ll take him out of here right now.”

“But you can’t…” spluttered the doctor, seeing his chance to test out some theories literally slipping through his fingers. “Deputy Givens…”

“…is asleep. He’s not dying, he’s physically fine, all he needs is an iv and drip for nutrients and hydration, and our boss’ wife can take care of that.” Tim stood his ground.

“We’ll look after him.”

[][][][][][][][]

On balance, Tim reflected as he closed the door behind the sixth set of well wishers, perhaps taking Raylan back to his spare bedroom wasn’t the best idea he had ever had.

When Lynn, one of the office girls, and her friend had showed up, wanting to see Raylan, well Tim couldn’t see the harm. Raylan was neatly dressed in a blue and white hospital gown and lying in Tim’s spare bed. Like Snow White.

If Snow White had been male and a forty-two year old Harlan-born Deputy US Marshal.

So he let them sit in there with Raylan for a little while. Which was fine, until one after the other they got up to kiss Raylan full on the lips.

By the time the third set of hopeful females had been ushered out of Tim’s front door, he was feeling more than a little frazzled. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell went again.

Rachel looked at him with a little concern. Tim stepped aside and waved her slightly impatiently into his apartment. “Even when he’s asleep Raylan can’t keep his hands off them.”

Rachel frowned, puzzled. “What?”

Tim huffed, “apparently every woman between the ages of eighteen and eighty in a fifteen mile radius has it in their heads that Raylan can be woken by true love’s kiss. I’ve been fending them off all afternoon.”

Rachel actually blushed. Tim stared as her eyes slipped away from his, and she looked down at the floor. “Erm… That might have been my fault.”

Tim crossed his arms, “how so?”

“Well, I might have… possibly… oh damn… I might have mentioned it to Lynn.”

The office junior secretary was sweet and more than a little naïve. She had a tendency to believe everything the Deputies told her. Tim’s frown cleared as a horrible thought occurred. 

“That explains why Mrs Haverson showed up a couple of hours ago, dressed up in her Sunday best.”

Rachel shuddered. She wouldn’t wish Mrs Haverson on anyone. “You didn’t?”

“Hey, doesn’t matter how much Wyatt Earp gets under my skin, I wouldn’t do that to him.” Tim actually looked offended that Rachel might think he would let any harm come to Raylan.

Rachel shuffled her feet a little. “Forgive me?” She said.

Tim nodded. “I do. Raylan, you might have to beg forgiveness a while longer. And true love’s kiss definitely isn’t the answer.” He grinned at the thought.

“Why?”

“Because Winona blew through here two hours ago, and it didn’t make the slightest difference.”

[][][][][][][][]

Leslie Mullen showed Tim how to switch out Raylan’s drip bag. _Easy._

Then she pulled the quilt back, “now we need to turn him.” 

_Whoa_. “Turn him?” Tim hadn’t realized that looking after Raylan meant more than protecting him from mad doctors with that Frankenstein gleam in their eyes. The whole kissing thing was mostly harmless, if irritating, but actually handling Raylan, without his knowledge. Tim wasn’t entirely sure he was comfortable with that.

Leslie had this look on her face that made Tim blush, “Tim, Raylan can’t lay on his back all the time, we don’t know how long it will be before he wakes up. If he stays on his back, he will get pressure sores.” She moved into position at the side of the bed, “it’s easier with two people, but possible with one.” Tim’s horrified eyes watched as Leslie moved the tubing out of the way, certain that his own bladder twinged in sympathy. At least he hadn’t seen that indignity actually performed. Leslie put a hand on Raylan’s hip, and under his thigh, Tim put his hand on Raylan’s shoulder, “support his head with your other hand, Tim.”

Moving Raylan was surprisingly easy. When it was done, Tim’s fingers lingered, gently stroked Raylan’s hair back from his forehead. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.” He said quietly.

Leslie Mullen smiled to herself and slipped quietly out of the room. Leaving them alone.


	3. Unwanted Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim tries to get some sleep.

Tim Gutterson had survived his childhood, Basic, sniper training, two Middle Eastern tours, and Glynko by being aware of what was going on around him. Even in sleep.

He didn’t hear the hallway door open, hearing in this case was redundant. He felt it to the depths of his soul. Someone was in the apartment. Moving around.

Tim’s Glock was in his hand, and he was on his feet and moving silently to his bedroom door, Glock and torch at the ready.

Raylan’s bedroom door was open, but Tim had left it open, the threat was already inside.

Tim moved at attack speed.

He was through the doorway, and shining the torch in the uninvited visitor’s eyes. “Stop right there.” He growled.

Then blinked. “What the…” Moved up to the bedside to switch on Raylan’s bedside light.

“Boyd?”

Raylan’s coal-mining, criminal chum was slowly lowering his hands. “Deputy Gutterson, I am sure I didn’t mean to disturb you in this time of…”

Unwilling to listen to one of Boyd’s lengthy speeches, Tim cut him off “Don’t you people ever knock?” he snarled irritably, “it’s one in the morning, couldn’t this, whatever it is,” he favoured Boyd with a steely glare, “have waited until a normal hour?”

“No, Deputy Gutterson, I don’t believe it could.” Said Boyd. Cool as you please he bent down and kissed Raylan full on the mouth.

A tiny, fanciful corner of Tim’s brain was wondering if Raylan would wake up. And if he did, if he was Boyd’s true love would he come back as a vampire.

The rational part of Tim’s brain was feeling pissed. His trigger finger was feeling itchy. He wondered for a moment if Raylan was rubbing off on him. The thing he wanted to do above anything else was shoot Boyd Crowder.

Then maybe he could get a little sleep.

There was a knock at the door, interrupting Tim’s sleep deprived musings. Having accepted that Boyd was here to kiss Raylan, as weird and unsettling as that was, the smooth talking criminal kingpin obviously didn’t actually mean Raylan any harm right now. Tim went to answer the door.

He knew before his hand was even on the doorknob who was on the other side.

“Ava.”

He stepped aside, allowing her passage into his apartment.

“Deputy.”

He yawned hard, and waved a hand towards Raylan’s room. “Come one, come all,” he said sarcastically.

She declined to answer, but stalked past him and into Raylan’s room. Threw an annoyed look at Boyd and pushed past him to lean over and plant a firm kiss on Raylan’s lips.

The punch-drunk, sleep-deprived part of Tim’s psyche took fairly childish delight in Raylan’s complete lack of response to either of them. The whole true love’s kiss thing was just hokum, but on the vaguest outside chance that it was true, apparently Raylan didn’t belong to either of them.

_Good to know._

“As nice as this has been, do you think you could both leave now?” Tim made a shooshing motion with his hand. He was tired. This crazy shit was not very helpful.

“Deputy, thank you for your hospitality.” Boyd’s slow Kentucky drawl flowed over Tim like a wave.

 _And for not shooting you, I can see why Raylan did._ Tim nodded. “Next time, knock, as much as I would love to arrest you for something, I will let it slide this once.”

Ava said nothing, offered a tight little smile, and the glare that she flashed at her boyfriend suggested that Boyd was going to have a difficult time of it after they were out of the house.

Tim didn’t care. Just as long as they were gone.

[][][][][][][][]

He shut the door behind them, and went to check on Raylan. The cowboy was still asleep, on his back, arms resting by his sides, on top of the covers. Quiet and still and all sorts of things that Raylan Givens was never supposed to be.

It was too early, Raylan’s drip bag was still more than half full, and the bag dealing with the other matter didn’t need changing either. Tim yawned and stretched. God he was so tired.

Raylan was in a double bed, there was plenty of space, and suddenly Tim really didn’t want to walk the few feet to his room. And it wasn’t as though Raylan wasn’t fast asleep. He reached over, turned the light out, and crawled under the covers.

[][][][][][][][]

Nelson Dunlop was having the worst ten minutes of his life so far. Even worse than the time that Raylan took Hunter Moseley for a scenic tour of Kentucky after Raylan’s father had been shived in prison.

Chief Deputy Art Mullen was not a patient man. Their witness was still missing. Raylan was still asleep. And the AUSA David Vasquez wanted answers. 

They were falling back on snitches. Specifically Arnold Pinter. Nelson thought Pinter was nuts. And he was Raylan’s snitch. Which was the way that Nelson preferred it.

Then there was the crazy bottle of Maker’s Mark. Raylan’s fingerprints. The witness’s fingerprints underneath Raylan’s. Meaning that the witness had poisoned Raylan.

The whole office was spooked.

Nelson hunkered down over his phone, wished fervently that he had some other place he had to be, and dialed Pinter’s number. Hoping that this time he was going to get lucky.

[][][][][][][][]

Tim woke to a heavy weight pressing his right side into the mattress, something warm pressed up against him. Puzzled, he opened his eyes.

Raylan.

The cowboy was turned on his side, huddled up against Tim, head resting on Tim’s shoulder, arm resting on his waist. Tim’s arms closed around Raylan, holding tight, an unexpected surge of emotion messing with his mind.

Dammit. He had put those feelings away before Basic, and stepped resolutely on them ever since. He did not have the luxury of that. And until Raylan Givens it had never been a problem.

Then two years ago, a tall, dark, handsome cowboy had walked through the Marshals’ Office door, Tim’s eyes had tracked this vision across the bullpen floor and that had pretty much been that.

Since then Tim had discovered that Raylan Givens was a sexy, magnetic, badass asshole who attracted trouble wherever he went. The cool, rational, military, ordered part of Tim’s brain said that even acquaintance with this man was unwise. The adventure-seeking, passionate, romantic side of Tim’s nature was egging him on to get closer.

Raylan was a magnet and Tim was attracted.

Just being around the guy was exciting.

Now he was lying, half on top of Tim, crushed up against him like he was seeking comfort. Tim stroked a hand down Raylan’s back gently. Raylan actually cuddled closer.

There seemed to be a time lag between Tim’s brain and Tim’s eyes, the significance of movement almost passed him by.

“Ray…” Tim patted his cheek. “Ray come on. Please.” He moved to sit up then, and Raylan made this desperate little noise in the back of his throat. For a tenth of a second, Tim could swear that his heart stopped.

He put his hand gently on Raylan’s cheek, hoping to coax him to wakefulness, but nothing happened.

Tim bent his head and fought the tears.


End file.
